


Date Night

by cowboykylux



Series: Pale x Reader Vignettes [11]
Category: Burn This - Wilson
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Post-Canon, Recreational Drug Use, Reluctantly Domestic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 23:13:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20665400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykylux/pseuds/cowboykylux
Summary: '"First of all, it ain’t a date, you got that?” He tells you when he picks you up wearing his nicest suit, lizard-skin boots freshly polished from a shoe-shine guy he knows from work. Hands you fresh flowers that you put in the pretty glass vase he gave you ages ago'





	Date Night

“First of all, it ain’t a date, you got that?” He tells you when he picks you up wearing his nicest suit, lizard-skin boots freshly polished from a shoe-shine guy he knows from work. Hands you fresh flowers that you put in the pretty glass vase he gave you ages ago.

  
It _ain't a date_ when he takes you to a stupidly expensive restaurant. The kind where an entree is $80 and the wine is even more. The kind where there’s candles on the table next to heavy silverware. 

  
He kisses you with a scowl, slips his hand between your thighs, squeezes at you. He kisses you when you’re being too fuckin’ pretty, when your necklace sparkles too pretty in the candlelight and your smile is too sweet, when your jokes are too good. 

  
Kisses you so no one else gets to see how pretty you are, he wants them to know no one else gets you. He sticks his finger in your mouth, tells you to taste the sauce. There isn’t any, but you don't need to know that.

You know anyway.

You kiss him anyway. 

  
He takes you around back to the alley just outside the place, in all its 3 michelin star glory. He crowds you against the wall, braces his arms on either side as you tug at his zipper, pull his cock out. He makes sure not to get your outfit dirty when he bends you over and fucks you there, whispering sweet things in your ear that make you moan, your knees buckling. 

  
He drapes his jacket over your shoulder afterwards, like a proper fuckin’ gentleman. 

  
He takes you to a Broadway musical afterwards. “I know a guy who gets me tickets when i want them.” He says with a sniff and a shrug, like it ain’t no big deal. 

It might be a date when you look at your tickets and they’re box seats. 

  
He keeps an arm around you the whole time, you rest your head on his shoulder during the romantic bits. “Don’t go gettin’ any fuckin’ ideas.” He whispers, and you cover your mouth so you don’t laugh too loud. You see him smiling, but he pretends he isn’t, so you pretend too. 

  
He can’t sit through the fuckin’ plays with nothin, so he snorts a line during intermission. You thank all powers that be that you’re the only people up in the box, when he gets too excited and handsy and just has to grope at you and suck at your neck and you gotta give him a handjob during the second act. 

  
It ends like a date when he brings you back home, kissing you so hard it’s bound to bruise.

  
“Did you have fun tonight?” He asks, after he’s come in you so hard that he thinks he’s never gonna move again.

You nod your head and tell him your favorite parts. 

“That’s good, maybe we’ll do it again sometime.” He says, almost asks it like an unsure question, in that strangely self-conscious way that he gets, as if you’d ever turn him away. 

  
You do it again a bunch of times, but, _they ain’t dates._

  
They’re something more. 


End file.
